


Let's drink

by Jonah_Smith_907



Series: When Oliver talks [1]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012), Arrow (TV 2012) RPF, Green Arrow (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Like Really Drunk, Mentions of Suicidal Thoughts, To be fair though I did actually intend some of the angst, but i like it, drunk!oliver, idek, idk how i got here, in like two hours, mentions of torture, near to excessive drinking, or why this turned out so angsty, there's so much angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-05-17 21:28:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14839482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jonah_Smith_907/pseuds/Jonah_Smith_907
Summary: Quentin wants to hear the story of Oliver's five years in Purgatory. In order to get him to tell him, he drinks with him.Oliver tells him the whole story (Maybe in shorter) and Quentin begins to think that maybe he didn't deserve that much pain.Pure emotional hurt and comfort in the very end. Also very very angsty.Tags might change in the near future, because I'm too tired right now, also this is not beta-ed, so any faults I made are mine.





	Let's drink

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE READ PRECAUTIOUS, BECAUSE OF TALKING OF TORTURE AND SUICIDAL THOUGHTS AT ONE POINT.  
>  _Also_ this is my first work in this Fandom, thought idek why, cause I've watched the first three season like two years ago or something. Gotta catch up on that.

It had been a good plan. If you think of a plan, and it's like smugly grinning at you, you know it's a good plan. 

Looking back, it had _not_ been a good plan.

 

Quentin Lance was a good cop. He knew it, everyone else knew it. But now he wasn't so sure about that anymore. All he had wanted, was to get that Queen-playboy to finally tell him what had happened in those five years on the island. Sure, there was no doubt he'd been there, but he wanted to know, if there could be any possibility that he could have been turned into an arrow-shooting ninja-fighter. 

And if he had suffered enough for the death of Sara. 

That, however, he doubted. 

Anyway, that's how he found himself sitting in Queen's empty Club, a bottle of Vodka standing in front of them. 

“Tell me again why you want to do this?”, the young man asked with a frown. 

“Laurel told me to stop holding a grudge against you” That part was true. “So I thought to myself: Why not drink our problems away?” That part was a lie, but Oliver didn't pick up on it. Or maybe he did and just managed to mask it very well. 

“Ah.” The blond didn't look very convinced, but he didn't try to escape the situation, so that was counted as a win. Then suddenly he smiled at the Cop and poured them two shots of Vodka, each. “Let's drink, then.”

Quentin mirrored the smile. They clinked their glasses against each other and drowned the clear alcohol. The Cop pulled a face at the taste, but Oliver didn't move a single muscle. Instead he tried not to smirk at the other man.

“You drink this stuff often?”, Quentin asked and poured them another round. 

“I'm used to it.”, was the answer he got. It was the answer he'd been looking for, but okay. 

 

An hour an too many shots later, Oliver was drunk as hell, while Quentin had managed to stay somewhat sober and talk the younger man into drinking more than him. It had paid off. 

“You know … uh ...” Oliver had to think for a second and puzzle together a halfway understandable sentence. “You're not all that bad.” His speech wasn't exactly slurred, but it seemed to take him much longer to form works with a slow tongue. 

“Yeah? Well thanks.” Truth was, he didn't know how to start with his questions. The last time he'd asked him about the Island, Queen had nearly started crying and had had to leave the room. 

In the end he didn't have to say anything to make the other one talk: “I know that … that you don't really wanna just like … be drinking buddies.” He gave him a sad? Smile. “You want somethin' from me.” Now he sighed and without looking at the older man, poured himself another shot. “Is it about Sara?”

Feeling like a child caught stealing cookies, Quentin nodded. “Kind of.” Now he suddenly wished he hadn't drunken anything at all. He still remembered to turn on the recorder on his phone, though. “What happened on that Island?”

“Ah.” Oliver's whole body went stiff at the question, but it only lasted a second. Then he gave the other man a dopey smile. “A lot.”

“Humor me.”

“Okay.” He nodded thoughtfully. “But I wanna … want you to know that it's your fault if … if I do anything stupid tonight.”

He raised an eyebrow. He wasn't sure if he wanted to know what he meant by that. He agreed anyway. “Okay. In return, you tell me everything.”

The younger man shot him a doubting look. “I don't know if you're drunk enough for that.”

“Just start already!”

“Fine! Just don't … It's called Lian Yu. It's Mandarin for Purgatory.” Again he frowned. “But that's not where it started, is it?” He nodded to himself. “It started on that godforsaken boat. The Queen's Gambit.” Those two words came out stretched and full of distaste. “You know, my father didn't drown that day.” He made a gesture to his head. “Shot himself and the only crew member left in the head. I stranded like … few days later.” 

For a few minutes he didn't say anything and neither did Quentin. That information did come as a shock. “So … what happened on Lian Yu? You said the people that were there tortured you. Why?”

“Because of Yao Fei Gulong.” Now a weak smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “He shot me with an arrow after I'd buried my father under a pile of stoned.” Quentin frowned, even opened his mouth to say something, but in the end didn't interrupt. “Thought he taught me how to survive. You know, shooting with Bow and Arrow. Hunting.”

“Really? Bow and Arrow?” The Cop raised a brow. 

Oliver shrugged. “Killed for the first time with one.”

Quentin just stared at him. 

“That was to save a … a friend. Of mine. Shado. And like … myself.” He drank another shot, as if to sooth the pain those memories caused. “And I mean … he had me tortured, also tortured some other people and shot Yao Fei in the head right in front of me.” A joyless smirk appeared on his face. “He had it coming, don't ya think?”

“... possibly.”, Quentin found himself agreeing. 

“Well. Anyway, after that we had a several months break. Ya know, there hadn't been a way to … to get off.” He poured himself the about twentieth drink this night. “Didn't really want to, though, in the end.”

“Why not?”

Oliver gave him a pained expression. “Because I got Shado killed.”

“How?”

“By shielding Sara from a bullet to the head.”

The cop felt as if had somebody had punched him in the stomach, whilst at the same time an ice-cold sensation ran down his spine. “What?”, he weakly croaked, suddenly any effect of alcohol gone. A tiny glow of hope was spreading in his stomach at that. She was alive. But if she was, then why had Oliver lied about it? If she was alive, where was she?”

“She uh … she didn't drown like I thought. Got picked up by a ship and Ivo liked her. Trained her. Dunno what else. Or maybe I do??” He gestured at nothing in particular. “Too drunk. Anyway, Ivo – he's an asshole and held me captive for some time and shot me in the stomach and had me pull the bullet out and stitch the wound myself. I think Sara was scared of him? I mean she manipulated me into … uh … telling them the others were alive, too.” He cleared his throat. “That was before he shot Shado 'n all. Then Slade – he kinda trained me, too, back when Yao Fei was still there – he got injected by some serum that made him stronger and like angry in the end? Wasn't pretty.” He shook his head. “No, that wasn't pretty. But he got better in between. Didn't know I had saved Sara and let Shado die.”

“Sara is alive??”

“Was.” A shadow fell over his face. “Was alive. Slade killed her on Ivo's ship.” Another shot after that sentence. Despite the horrifying story he was hearing, Quentin was starting to wonder how this man was still talking so clearly. 

The gloom of hope had died and left the old black hole. 

“After that the ship exploded because … because. I woke up in China. That wasn't fun either. Waller made me … made me torture people. Kill people. Lived with a man called Maseo for a time. And his wife and child. Came back to Starling City once. For a mission.”

“Couldn't you have escaped them??”, Lance asked in irritation. Suddenly this whole story was heavier than he'd thought. Maybe he'd have another drink after all. 

“They would've killed my family.” Oliver prepared another shot and after some short hesitation, he made one for the older man as well. “Though I did kill Thea's drug dealer.” _Now_ he was beginning to slur. “After that we were free to go – Maseo and I, I mean. But he tried to leave and people started shooting at him and his family so I took his son Akio and ran off. And ran into Shado's sister Mei. Thought I might as well stab myself. Would've hurt less.”, he murmured. “Akio died later from a bio-weapon.” He sounded so sad at that, Quentin nearly felt sorry for him. And by nearly, I mean it broke his heart to hear this. “Tortured the prick that said he had an antidote but it was Insulin. Hurt him. Until he was unconscious.”

“You uh, you said you were free to go.” He was too sober for this kinda shit. 

“I didn't wanna go home.” He took a sip of Vodka straight from the bottle. “Cause I was … still am. Probably. A monster. Didn't want that kinda crap around my family. Played vigilante for a while. Until Waller drugged me and brought me back to Lian Yu to … take down another asshole who had slaves working for him. A drug lord. Well. Long story short, I witnessed some straight up weird shit, got tortured again. Had to kill another friend, because she asked me to. Was going crazy from …” He looked for the right word, without freaking out the Cop next to him. For a brief moment he wondered why he was even telling him these things, but then decided he didn't care. Eventually he settled with “Drugs. Called Waller. Then went to Russia to inform her family of her death.”

Quentin downed another shot. “Jesus.”, he muttered. Maybe he should cut him off. He wasn't so sure anymore if he really wanted to hear all this.

“Fought in an underground fight club and killed the local Bratva champion. They didn't like that so they kidnapped me and tried to kill me. Anatoly, who was on the Island on Ivo's ship as a prisoner – we became friends – saved me. I ended up becoming a member of Bratva. Went back to Lian Yu as an alibi, was captured by another Russian, was tortured _again_. Was injected with a drug and could either kill him or myself. Nearly killed myself.” A thoughtful frown and a shadow fell over his eyes. “Should have, probably.” Then he gave Quentin a quick smile, as if to apologize for that last bit. “Killed him in the end, though. Cause Laurel – hallucination – told me not to put that bullet in my own head. And then I was picked up by the fishermen. Kind men.”

For several minutes there was absolute silence in the wide room. Then Quentin cleared his voice. “Bratva, huh?” He tried to ignore the bits and pieces, indicating the younger man's self-loathing and possibly even suicidal thoughts. “Pretty crazy.”

“Yeah.”, Oliver agreed. After a few seconds of blankly staring into nothingness, he suddenly lifted the not yet empty bottle of Vodka. “Now please allow me to drink myself into oblivion.” Without waiting for an answer, he drank the whole rest. After that was done, he got up from his chair and kind of stumbled in the direction of the exit. “Would you mind locking the door?”, he asked and turned around once more. “Can't really … uh … see the lock.”

“What, you wanna go home like this? Alone?” The cop followed lead and got up as well. When he reached the other man, he noticed how stiff he was standing, fists clenched by his sides, head hanging low. “C'mon, I'll take you home.”

“You can't drive.”

“I'll call … who do you want me to call?” He couldn't remember the moment he'd become so friendly with the Queen-boy, but it felt wrong to be as cold as he'd normally be. Maybe he hadn't deserved that much pain.

Oliver thought for a minute. “Tommy.”, he finally said and pulled out his phone. “Call Tommy.

 

Twenty minutes later and Tommy showed up in a car. When he saw in state Oliver was, he shot Quentin a disapproving look. Of course he knew exactly what had been going on. “Get in the car. Both of you.” He grabbed Oliver by his waist and steered him to the vehicle, sitting him down on the passenger seat, while the Cop sat down in the back. 

The drive was mostly quiet, but when the younger man dropped Lance off at his place, he spoke up once more: “I hope you're happy with yourself.” He worriedly looked at the by now passed out man next to him. “He won't be anywhere happy for a very long time, and you've probably just made it worse.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. Aren't people supposed to talk about their problems?”

“Yeah. But not while drunk, and certainly not with the Cop who's trying to lock him up.” There was a short pause. “Will you?”

“I don't know.”

“I assume you've recorded it.”

“Yes. But it wouldn't be count at court. I just … needed to hear it.”

“Yeah, well. He didn't need to tell you.” It was funny, he wasn't even angry, that Oliver would tell Lance and not him. Maybe he didn't have to hear the story of five years of sorrow and pain and loneliness.

 

Oliver Queen cried that night, laying in Tommy's spare room, blanket thrown to the floor. Not the loud, ugly crying. It was quiet and heartbreaking as silent sobs shook his tired body. He wept for a long time, until his best friend quietly entered the room. He took the blanket and lay down next to Ollie, draping the soft fabric on top of them.

Tommy scooted closer and held the other one close by his waist. He whispered soothing words into his ear, until finally he fell asleep, his exhausted and drunk mind shutting down.

Not long after, Tommy was asleep, too.


End file.
